


Moving With You

by stilaheyy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Abuse, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-27 01:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilaheyy/pseuds/stilaheyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac, a freshman psychology major at Whittier College, finds himself with a (thankfully) absent roommate, no friends to speak of, and an RA named Stiles who talks too much and makes Isaac feel nervous in ways he's never really experienced before. The year is off to a great start...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The rating will eventually be moved up, but for now it stands as marked.

The first time he pushed open the door to his room, one shoulder laden with a duffle bag stuffed to the brim with most of his clothes, he could actually _feel_ something for the first time in ages. It was barren, white everywhere with boring oak furniture and bland gray carpeting. Both beds were lofted high—too high, up against the ceiling, and he’d have to fix that right away—with desks and dressers underneath, the entire place stinking of fresh paint and carpet cleaner. It was hardly anything at all, and yet, it was _everything_. It was perfect.

It was _his_.

Isaac knew next to nothing about his roommate, just that his name was Jackson Whittemore and he was from a city called Beacon Hills. The one time Isaac had tried to email him had earned him a one sentence reply that told him plenty about the character of the person he was destined to live in close quarters with for the next nine months. But not even that could bring him down. Whittier wasn’t just where he would be receiving his education for the next four years. It was a new start.

The last six years had been rough to say the least. A relationship with his father that could be described as tenuous in the best of times had reached a fever pitch following the deaths of his mother and brother within months of each other, resulting in a turn to the violent that had haunted each of Isaac’s breaths for years, but a fatal car accident had changed all of that. He’d gone into foster care, moving from family to family, ending with the Hales for several months until he turned eighteen a few months earlier. Despite the fact that he had mostly decent memories from his time spent in their house, it was never home. Neither had been the shabby little apartment where he’d bided his time until he could move to Whittier.

One minute spent inside this sterile dorm room identical to every other on the floor already felt like it was.

There were two other boxes sitting out in the hallway waiting for him, the last of his earthly possessions, and after tossing his bag onto the bed beside the window, he moved toward the door to retrieve them only to have it fly open in his face.

“Hey!” the guy said, wide-grinned as he hefted one of the boxes in question into the room. “Isaac or Jackson?”

“Isaac,” he said, hurrying over to take the box from the mystery intruder’s arms. Up close he could see the smattering of moles dusted across his face like stars in the night sky, could see the warmth of his eyes.

“I thought so. I’m Stiles, your RA, humbly welcoming you to Johnson Hall. Do you need help bringing more stuff up or is someone helping you?” he— _Stiles—_ asked.

“No, this is it. It’s just me,” Isaac said, feeling his shoulders droop in the way they always did when he felt like this.

“Sounds good, man. It’s good to meet you. Hall meeting tonight at eight. Don’t be late. I even made the patented Stilinski puppy chow recipe that has become the stuff of legend around these parts, so if you _are_ late, you’ll probably miss out because that shit’s gone in like, twenty seconds,” Stiles said and Isaac had never had such a hard time trying to figure out what another person was saying to him in his entire life. “No, but seriously don’t be late.”

“I- I won’t be. Promise,” Isaac said seriously. Stiles smiled again and Isaac felt like all the air had just been sucked out of his gut.

“I believe you. You’re good people, I can tell. See you at…?” he supplied.

“Eight,” Isaac answered quickly, the urge not to disappoint never failing to be immensely overwhelming. Stiles winked at him and backed toward the door.

“Duty calls. I’ll see you later!” Stiles called out, tripping rather spectacularly over Isaac’s final box in the hallway on his way out.

Isaac quickly grabbed it, face burning bright red and fiery hot as he shut the door, trying to figure out exactly why he felt like his insides had taken flight within his skin.

 


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating will eventually be moved up, but for now it stands as marked.

It took exactly forty-eight minutes to clean the room and to unpack and organize all of Isaac’s earthly possessions. Everything was in its place. Everything was right.

Everything was  _his_.

Since his roommate was still absent, the other side of the room vacant in a way that was starting to prickle at Isaac’s skin, he’d just gone ahead and chosen a bed, closet, dresser, and desk. If Jackson wanted to switch later, they could discuss it, but he wasn’t going to wait around all day to get anything done.

All he had left to do was unloft his bed—there was no way he could sleep that close to the ceiling, no way, he needed more space above him than that—and everything would be set. He couldn’t do that by himself, though, so he had to wait until he could get some help. Hopefully, help would come in the form of his roommate, but he wasn’t putting too much stock in that. Not when it was nearing six and most of the floor had been moved in before he’d even gotten there.

It was almost suppertime, his stomach growling loudly in declaration of his hunger. He knew where he could get food on campus, had learned that much during orientation, but as he looked out the window at all the students milling around in duos or groups, laughing and enjoying the beautiful weather, his stomach twisted into a knot. He pulled back, pushing a hand through the hair on the back of his head.

Isaac knew himself. He could go to the cafeteria alone and be fine. He’d lived alone and dined alone for the last few months.

It was just that… he didn’t  _want_  to. Not anymore. College was supposed to be a chance to make actual friends, ones that he could let in on every aspect of his life because none of it would need hiding. But he didn’t have anyone. Not yet.

The solution to his problem came easily to mind, but actually getting himself out the door was another story. Heat prickled across his neck, his palms slickening as he pulled in a deep breath through his nose, feet moving him across the carpeting when his mind wasn’t entirely ready to complete the task. Wiping his hands on the thighs of his jeans, Isaac pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway.

It took him a few seconds to find Stiles’ room. Situated across the hall on the corner across from the bathroom, his RA’s door was propped open, soft music drifting into the hallway along with the sound of laughter. What sounded like _Stiles’_ laughter _. The_  noise blossomed a smile on Isaac’s lips, one that he squelched as he peeked his head to see if Stiles was indeed inside.

“Isaac!” he greeted from his splayed out position on his bed, glancing at a gorgeous, perky-looking redhead perched in his desk chair. The room was dimly lit and comfortable despite the almost minimalistic grey-toned decorations. It made Isaac’s room feel barren and dull in comparison. He pulled the arms of his sweater down over his hands, curling the fabric around his fingers.

“Hey. How do I order a pizza? Do I just have them deliver it here or-“

“Yeah, totally. Just tell them that you live in Johnson Hall and pick it up down at the front desk,” Stiles said. “Jackson here yet?”

Stile’s gaze moved to the girl and stayed there, her attention focused very diligently on her nails.

“No, not yet.” Stiles sighed and finally peeled his eyes away and Isaac either wanted to crawl out of his skin or shrink further into it. He wasn’t sure which. Stiles stood and went to pull himself up on the desk beside the girl, his ankle bumping into the chair right beside her leg. Isaac followed every movement like he would be forced to reenact it by memory later. “Thanks for the help.”

“No problem. See you at eight!” Stiles said, eyes warm and lips curled into a smile Isaac couldn’t take his eyes off of without physical effort. He slipped from the doorway and went down to his room, the sound of melodic, high-pitched laughter that was distinctly _not_ Stiles’ brushing against his back as he walked away with something akin to disappointment clogging up his throat.

\- - -

Isaac ate half of his pizza, unsure of what to do with the rest. He’d watched most of the other rooms on his floor heft small fridges inside that afternoon, but he didn’t have one to store it in. He didn’t have anything. Not even someone to share his pizza with.

Deciding he’d take it with him to the meeting, he wasted some time on the internet, the door open to the hallway as he waited for eight o’clock to roll around. Around seven forty-five, he saw the redhead from Stiles’ room stomp past, high heels clicking loudly on the tile floor, whispering into her phone with an unmistakable look of annoyance on her face. Apparently Stiles and his girlfriend had had a fight. Isaac sighed, closed his laptop and leaned back in his chair just as someone came bustling into the room.

The guy was good-looking—kind of ridiculously so—and he was very pointedly _not_ looking at Isaac as he flung open the closet and put a suitcase inside.

“Don’t touch my shit,” he said, finally turning to look at Isaac who was now turned in his chair to watch, wondering what in the hell was going on.

“Excuse me?” Isaac asked, standing. “Are you Jackson?”

“I  _said_ , don’t touch my shit. I’ll know if you do.”

“I-I wouldn’t. I’m Isaac.” He extended a hand, one that Jackson looked disdainfully down at before turning away. Isaac dropped it, a sickly, cold feeling creeping up his spine. “Do you need help bringing the rest of your stuff up? We have a floor meeting in fifteen minutes, but we can probably-“

Jackson laughed. It was cruel and hit too close to home. Isaac stepped back, burying his hands in the sleeves of his sweater once again.

“You think I’m living in this hell hole? My girlfriend lives off campus. The room is yours, except my stuff, which-“

“I won’t touch.” Isaac wasn’t looking him in the eye anymore. The carpet was a little worn in front of the closets. Maybe he should get a rug.

“Good.” With that, Jackson was gone.

Isaac closed the closet door, looked from his still-lofted bed to the half-full pizza box on his desk and sighed. Grabbing his keys, he headed for the floor lounge, leaving it all behind.

\- - -

The meeting was pretty much what he expected it to be and Stiles’ puppy chow more than lived up to the hype. Isaac ate two plastic cups full as Stiles went through all the floor rules.

_No guests after eleven unless they’re checked in._

_Keep all noise to a reasonable level until eleven and then quiet is expected._

_Don’t touch things that aren’t yours._

_Etcetera._

Isaac tried to pay attention. Really, he did. Squished against the arm of a loveseat lumpier than he liked his mashed potatoes with a big stoic-seeming black guy who’s name he hadn’t caught, he had a perfect view of Stiles. Stiles who was funny and talked with his hands and moved with all the grace of a newborn giraffe taking its first steps but somehow managed to make it look endearing and  _adorable._

Stiles who had a girlfriend.

_Stiles._

The meeting ended just before eight-thirty with some comment that had the group roaring, but Isaac had missed it because well, Stiles had been touching his face so Isaac was thinking about what it would be like to touch his face and yeah. Isaac was in trouble. Big trouble.

As the room cleared out, Isaac lingered, watching as Jackson was the first one out the door, rolling his eyes as he went. He helped Stiles clean up the cups guys had left behind, shrugging and blushing a little when Stiles thanked him around a mouthful of the stuff he’d kept stashed in a cup behind his chair, because as it turned out, that shit really was gone in about twenty seconds.

“What’s up? I feel like you’re not hanging out just because you have an affinity for blue Solo cups,” Stiles said, holding up an example before sinking it into the garbage can from a few feet away.

“No,” Isaac said, blushing again. God, he was  _so_  in trouble. “My roommate kind of bailed and I need help getting my bed un-bunked before I sleep tonight.”

“Not a fan of heights?” Stiles asked, gathering up the yellow legal pad stuffed thick with papers and covered in black ink. Isaac shook his head reflexively. Sure, he could be afraid of heights. Terrified of them. It was easier for people to swallow than the actual truth. “Yeah, I can help. It’s not too bad. Do you have any tools?”

“No, I… I didn’t realize I’d need them.”

Stiles smiled and Isaac felt like his entire body had just caught on fire.

“It’s not a big deal. We only need an Allen wrench and I have like, fifty. I’ll meet you there in a minute?”

Isaac nodded and went to his room, propping the door and looking around and fidgeting with things until Stiles appeared.

“Thanks for the help. I really appreciate it,” Isaac said, feeling a little—okay, a _lot_ —guilty as Stiles waved him off through a yawn.

“It’s nothing. I’ve done it before. It’s been a long day, but I’m happy to help,” Stiles told him. He gave him the lowdown of what needed to be done and they got to work, first pulling the mattress down and flinging it on top of Jackson’s before working at the hardware. “I’m not surprised that Jackson bailed. That guy’s an asshole.”

“You know him?” Isaac asked, eyes opening wide.

“No, not directly. The girl who was in my room earlier? That’s my friend Lydia. They’ve been dating since high school and he just sounds like a real winner, let me tell you. I don’t know why she’s letting him live with her.”

“Your friend?” Isaac asked, curiosity winning out over the embarrassment of that being the only thing in Stiles’ statement that had really stuck. But really, it was pretty important.

“Yeah. What, did you think she was my girlfriend?” Isaac shrugged, pretending to focus his task on lowering one of the brackets to a less panic-inducing level. “No way, man. I stopped barking up that tree like, three minutes into college.”

Isaac tried not to smile, nodding instead.

“She’s really pretty.”

“And water’s wet,” Stiles said, giving the bracket he’d just finished a jiggle for good measure. “I only went on like, one date with a girl last year anyway.” Isaac’s ears perked up and there was no way he hid it that time.

“Not a lot of luck?”

“Oh, I had plenty of luck,” Stiles laughed. “Just not with _girls_. You almost done with that bracket?”

Isaac was fairly certain in that precise moment that his brain was leaking out of his ears; heart thrumming, stomach tingling.

“What?” he asked, realizing that Stiles was looking at him rather expectantly. Now it was Stiles’ turn to hide a smile.

“Nothing,” he said, moving to the next.

It only took them about ten minutes to do the entire thing and before Isaac knew it, he had a bed situated at a perfectly acceptable height. And Stiles was still in his room. Stiles who was cute and bit his bottom lip when he concentrated. Stiles who had dated _boys_ last year.

_Stiles._

“Do you want the rest of this?” Isaac asked, shoving his nerves aside and reaching for the pizza box on his desk. “I ate what I want and I don’t have anywhere to keep it, so…”

“You need a fridge, man,” Stiles said with a little laugh, taking the box from him. “And yeah, I totally want the rest of it. I’m running on puppy chow and… well, puppy chow.”

“I know I need a fridge. I need a lot of things…” Isaac felt his shoulders turn in, his hand make its way to the back of his head. “I don’t have a car though, so it’s kind of hard.”

“You want me to give you a ride to Target tomorrow? I need to get some shit anyway. The knick-knacks _call_ to me.” He grinned. Isaac wanted to press his lips to it.

“Really? That’d be great, actually. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. Besides, it’s payback for the pizza, right?”

“I thought the pizza was payback for you helping me with my bed,” Isaac said, smile naturally springing up on his lips. It felt _amazing_.

“Hmmm,” Stiles said, pretending to think it over as he walked backward toward the door. “I guess you’ll still owe me then. I’ll pick you up after your stupid freshman circle jerk Kumbaya sing or whatever you have at noon."

“I um… a what? I thought it was a speaker.”

“That’s just what they tell you,” Stiles told him, pulling a slice out of the box and taking a bite. “Big ol’ circle jerk.”

Isaac laughed and blushed to the tips of his toes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Isaac.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.

 


End file.
